


Gone || A Dean Winchester Fanfic

by PiperWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiperWinchester/pseuds/PiperWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has it all with the love of his life: Rosalina, the older sister of Jo Harvelle. But when she dies, his whole world goes down the drain, leaving him empty and cold inside. Depression takes a toll on him, and e doesn't know how he'll survive without Rose. Will he manage to cope through her death and move on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone || A Dean Winchester Fanfic

Screaming echoed through the thin, cold air, making Dean cringe as he raced on with his machete. His throat was dry, and his lungs longed for air as he ran, his legs about ready to burst as he passed trees in the dark, gloomy forest.

"Rose!" He hollered, barely managing to make his voice echo through the trees.

"R-Rose!" He began breathing shallowly, but didn't stop running. The screaming began to fade as Dean pressed further, and his eyes widened when it stopped altogether.

"ROSE!" He was practically screaming now, running as fast as he ever had in his entire life. He slowed to a stop, his mouth releasing heavy breaths as he struggled to regain it. 

"R-Rose," he puffed, barely making his voice a whisper. After about twenty seconds, he managed to control his breathing; he went silent, trying to hear anything that signaled that Rosalina was nearby. After about twenty seconds, he nearly jumped at the scream.

  
"Dean!" It was Rosalina. "DEAN, HELP ME!"

  
"Rose!" Dean began running again, despite the protesting from his legs. "I'm here, Rose! R-Rose!"

  
"Dean!" She screamed back, sounding closer to Dean now.

"Dea-" her voice cut in a mangled cry of pain, making Dean's eyes widen.

  
"Rose?!" He called out. He waited for a reply, to hear her voice, to hear her signal that she was alright. She had to be okay. He lifted his head, his eyes still widened as he began to run, run to the sound of pain-filled gasps. He slowed once he saw a body lying on the ground. The usual beautiful female was now disfigured, making Dean barely get a chance to recognize her. Her long blonde hair was now red from blood and brown from mud with sticks, twigs, and leaves in her strands. Her pale green eyes were filled with pain, averting from the sky to him. The machete dropped from his grasp, falling to the ground. She was alive...

  
"Rose," his voice barely was a whisper, and he knelt beside her, pulling her onto his lap. Blood dripped from his hands, but he didn't care. He just wanted her to be okay, she would be okay! She had to be!

  
"Dean-" she trailed off, her chest heaving as she coughed, her teeth stained crimson. "Wow, I never thought it would end this way," she let out a laugh, wincing.

Dean's jaw tightened, his lips pressing together to form a firm white line.

  
"It ain't going to end," he told her, his voice cracking slightly. "Not while I'm here-" he suddenly pressed his fist against the huge gash on her side, desperate to stop the bleeding. She let out a cry, her eyes squeezing shut as he did so before opening again.

  
"Fuck!" She gasped, baring her teeth as her jaw clenched. "And yes, Dean. It is, and you know it." 

Dean was silent for a few moments, beginning to think. Maybe she was right, maybe she wouldn't make it. But that's not how Dean was. He always found a way around things, even death. But it was too late, and he knew that.

"Way to make me feel good," he growled.

  
"Well, how the hell do you think I feel right now?" She wanted to sound firm and scold-like, but it all came out in a gasp. "Crap, I don't know how much longer I can hold on-"

  
This caused Dean to pull her closer to him, his chin resting on her forehead. He began to rock her back and forth in his arms, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't lose her, not like this. Anything but this. After a few minutes of silence and rocking and the willingness of not to cry, she spoke up.

  
"Dean?"

  
He lifted his head, his dark green eyes staring into hers. "Yeah, Rose?"

  
"I love you," and with that, her lips pressed against his. For once in his life, sparks flew. Something deep, deep down inside Dean made his stomach churn, it felt... good. But all of that went away when her lips broke away from his and she fell onto his lap, her eyes dull and lifeless as they stared at the night sky.

  
"Rose?" Tears brimmed the edge of his eyes, and he shook her.

"ROSE!" He began to bang on her chest with his fist, blowing air into her mouth, but it was useless. She was gone... from him... forever. That was all that thought took. The tears came crashing down, pouring down his face as he buried it into the crook of her neck, sobbing quietly as he rocked back and forth.

  
"Why?" He sobbed into her neck. "Why me? Why me?"

——

Dean woke with a jolt, sitting up in the motel bed, gasping for breath. Sweat tricked down his head and ran down along his neck. It was just a nightmare, he thought to himself warily, rubbing his face. After a few moments, it struck him. It was real, Rose died, it all actually happened. It was over little a year ago, but that didn't mean he was still over it. He was too scared to sleep now, afraid that the nightmares would come again, which they did. He hadn't remembered a night where he hadn't the nightmare. Some things changed, but that rarely happened.

  
Sighing and willing himself not to cry, Dean slid off the bed, his chestnut brown hair spiking up everywhere as he walked to the bathroom shirtless and just in his boxers, giving him a sexy bedhead look. He began to think about his family; the last time he saw Sam and Castiel was that night when Rose died. When she did, he just got into the Impala and drove away. Castiel popped up a few times, but stopped the fourth time since Dean wouldn't allow himself to talk to the angel. And he made the angel promise not to tell Sam where he was without even speaking, so he was happy about that, at the least.

  
He closed the bathroom door behind him, popping his knuckles as he looked up to see himself in the mirror. His body and hair looked nice and sexy, which didn't surprise him, but his face told him otherwise. He had big, purple bags under his eyes, which were filled with depression, pain, sleepiness, and just plain old sadness. His face was red and blotchy from crying; no wonder girls and men looked at him weirdly in the bars. Well, who could blame him? He's lost everything/body he loves, he is just waiting for it to happen to Sam and Cas. Any day now, he told himself, his green eyes boring his reflection in the mirror.

  
"You happy now?" He asked himself, his throat barely allowing him to speak. "You happy that you killed everybody you love, you son of a bitch?" His voice was louder, more angry now.

  
"Because that's what you do, you hurt everybody. No wonder nobody wants you around, you're a piece of shit, a cheater, a liar, a burden. You're a fucking cunt-" he trailed off when his fist met the glass mirror, and with a loud shriek, the glass shattered to pieces, most of them falling into the sink and onto the ground; leaving Dean staring at his reflection, all uneven and apart. This showed his true colors, what he really was, how he felt.

  
He was broken...


End file.
